Witchcraft

Kimberly had decided to pay a visit to her neighbors. She had been rudely turned away at the door by a strikingly beautiful woman who had made it quite clear that the family did not want to be bothered. It was as she was walking back to her own cottage that Kimberly had happened to glance up at the second-story window and seen the face of the seven-year-old boy staring down at her. In that moment she realized she had never seen such an expression of emptiness on any human's face, young or old. It had stunned her. As she had stood there looking up at the boy he had abruptly been yanked away from the window, presumably by one of the adults inside the cottage. Instinctively alarmed but at a loss as to what might be happen ing , Kimberly had gone back to her own place and located the phone number of the real estate firm that handled rentals in the area. When she asked the agent if he had rented the house he told her that he hadn't. Kimberly had explained there was someone staying there and the agent had agreed to check with the owners to see if they had rented it out on their own. When the word came back that the owners were in Jamaica and couldn't be reached, the agent had said he'd drive by his client's property the following day when he got a chance and see what was happening. Possibly some freeloaders had broken in to use the facilities. That evening Kimberly had found herself watching the other cottage almost constantly. Something was wrong and she wasn't sure how to handle it. After all, she had no real evidence of any sort of criminal activity taking place. The only thing she had to go on at all was the strange look on the face of the child in the window and the fact that she was almost certain there should be no one staying in the cottage at this time of year. And then she had turned on the radio to catch the evening news and heard the bulletin about the kidnapping. It had taken place three days earlier but the family had tried to keep it quiet while they handled the situation. Someone had leaked the news to the press. As she listened to the description of the missing boy, Kimberly had gone very, very still. He had dark hair and he had last been seen wearing a bright orange windbreaker. BY the end of the news broadcast she knew that the child she'd seen in the upstairs window was little Scott Emery whose wealthy uncle, Darius Cavenaugh , had just received a ransom note. There had been a storm brewing that night, just as there was tonight, Kimberly recalled. When she'd tried to call the local law enforcement authorities she'd found her phone was out of order because of the high winds. Her next thought had been to take her car and drive into the nearest town, which was several miles away. She'd pulled on a waterproof jacket and a pair of boots and stepped outside, keys in her hand. Instinctively she'd glanced over at the other cottage and seen the lights in the upstairs window go out. Perhaps, she remembered thinking, the boy had just been put to bed for the night.
    She decided to take the risk of climbing up onto the porch roof of the old cottage. It wasn't such an outrageous idea. After all, the storm would muffle any noise she might make as she approached the house under cover of darkness and climbed up on the shaky railing of the porch. It was easy enough to swing herself up onto the porch roof, and from there she made her way to the darkened window where she had last seen the child. Peering through the window she was able to make out the shape of a small boy lying quietly on the bed. He was alone in the room. He'd been startled by Kimberly's soft knock on the window but he didn't cry out. Instead he simply stared at what must have been only a dark, shadowed face. Gently Kimberly knocked again. With a bravery that exceeded his years, Scott Emery came slowly toward the window until he could see Kimberly smiling encouragingly at him. And then he recognized the lady he'd seen earlier that day. Once the recognition was established Kimberly had no trouble at all getting Scott to cooperate.
    Together they raised the old window. The child's movements were slow and unusually awkward. It wasn't until the window had been forced open and Kimberly had gotten a whiff of the strange odor in the room that she realized he might be drugged. The penetrating fragrance of a burning herb stang her nostrils and she held her breath as she guided Scott out the window. He crawled out wearing a pair of cheap pajamas and nothing else.